*
when poetry comes
as a soft gliding
over my feelings
searching to appease
me a gentle caress
.
.
*
when poetry comes
as a soft gliding
over my feelings
searching to appease
me a gentle caress
.
.
*
cultivate love
not for one person
alone distinguish
like from love
choose to love
you will grow the
perfect climate
to rise in beauty
in good company
.
.
*
as the day cast its light
in different corners
of my house
I roam
my garden
seeking for different
silent spots where to bloom
.
.
*
we all walk
bundled up on
winter days
but the dogs
jump for joy
the old man
will not sit by
his fire he takes
himself out
slowly stretching
his steps next
to the lines
of poplars
he will walk to
the end not
a thought
of surrender
.
© 2013
.
Sundays are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
attendo che questa
poesia mi crolli addosso
come una cascata
che porti via un sudore
inutile che riempia
di frescura la mia gola
assetata di armonia
che tessono poco
queste mie mani
.
.
Yes, on Tuesdays the poems will be in English, as usual.
Sí, il martedì le poesie saranno come al solito in inglese.
don’t many of us
in this life get the chance
to be human
.
even if for a brief
moment of vulnerability
.
tenderness entwined in
with love and forgiveness
embracing mistakes
.
ours or others
understanding
there are no podiums
.
but one race
just one step
following
the other
.
one person
looking after another
keeping our necks oiled
to turn around
any given time
.
.
.
*
I place my steps
orderly
in front of me
.
the gravel sounds
sending approval
.
seeking a way to put
myself
in focus as I move
.
.
*
sharp the tree
branches
against the winter
sky black
a naked dance in
the brisk air
.
.
*
if I could keep my bones
warm and dry my heart
delicately swelling inside
as my eyes roam the air
grabbing not sure how
the poetic words that
make my life worth
living resounding
as a gentle
chime
.
.
Some Sundays are dedicated to Italian poetry
*
trovare il modo
di zittire i pensieri
rumorosi ossessivi
figli della paura per
accogliere quelli a forma d’ali
amalgame di leggerezza
piume su muscoli forti
che ci permettano di librarsi
nella bellezza della vita
con il becco spalancato
.
.
Poesia tratta dal libro bilingue “California Notebooks” in vendita da Feltrinelli per avere la vostra copia cliccate qui
Yes, on Tuesday poems will always be in English.
*
out of the dark gray morning
the turtle dove calls
same song she plays
on all seasons to call me
out of sleep into the awakened
daily life the tiresome day life
that holds a song or two
such as hers
to keep me standing
.
.
*
this is
my new church
the desert plane
.
where the spirit lives
I shall come and
preach to all
.
the desert gold
bushes sitting quietly
preach the deepest
.
silence on which
they already thrive
.
.
This poem is part of the poetry collection California Notebooks 02. If you wish to order a copy please click here.
*
they the shards of ice
laying on water
don’t move nor dance
they lay still there
as the ducks try a piroette
other then gliding
.
.
*
January mornings
wake up slowly
.
in spite of long stretches
yawns and chilly air
.
everything deep in sleep
so is everyone
.
like a colorless dream
dipped in silence
.
.
Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian poetry
*
taciturna
volo in bassi cerchi
leggera per il giardino
spensierata
non pesa la serenità
.
.
Yes, on Tuesday poems will be in English, as usual.